Keep Your Eye on the Prize
by MasterMillerLITE
Summary: Sometimes you have to mix business with pleasure.


**DISCLAIMER:** I'm not Hideo Kojima by any stretch of the imagination. Just an easily amused college kid during a long winter break.

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When Solid Snake was in the midst of a mission, everything just flowed easily. The real trick resided in a sort of balance only his very limited number of peers (most of whom were dead) understood: when to move, when to stay still, what distraction to employ in order to lure some hapless guard into a simple yet highly effective trap, and a number of other often improvised maneuvers that kept one alive. Snake could probably write a book about it, but he had neither the inclination nor patience for such a thing. Maybe Otacon could do it. Still, no matter how much one could study the techniques of infiltration at Snake's level, the only way to _understand_ the intricacy of tactical espionage required one to actually partake in it themselves.

But Metal Gears do not spawn book deals—at least for a fringe anti-Metal Gear group known as Philanthropy. The prospect of holding a book signing advertising a legendary hero/terrorist/clone would be quite tickling _if_ Snake were not busy with more pressing matters. No matter how practiced he was, he still remained mortal, and every single day reminded him of that fact. Musing too much in a life and death mission meant that everything that could go wrong probably would. Snake recalled doing it _once_ in his career, back when he was an overconfident rookie who stood head and shoulders above most of his compatriots in terms of skill. The mission, which almost became an international debacle, came close to ending with the then young Green Beret scattered across the Iraqi desert.

Snake, of course, always carried that experience with him, though he preferred _not_ to talk about it at any length beyond an annoyed grunt.

So with yet another potential site for Metal Gear proliferation, Solid Snake was back on the job. Now some radical Eastern European group sought to stick it to Russia for its "overbearing" presence in their home region. As with almost everyone else looking to get ahead in the global game, they planned to buy the plans for a Metal Gear REX derivative, build some of their own, and then sell it on to someone else.

Like an odd game of telephone, only with giant bipedal mechs capable of destabilizing (and destroying) the entire world.

Snake kept a close look out from the base's parameter, having already slipped by outlaying patrols with ease. The soldiers on hand, as with some of their other contemporaries, appeared to be oddly entranced with footprints to the point of following them far beyond their assigned posts. And now with night falling and visibility being squelched by a slow rolling fog, everything appeared to being playing into the legendary mercenary's favor.

As always, nothing could be taken for granted even when the conditions were seemingly perfect. Solid Snake, hidden behind a large stack of cargo crates, took a moment to inspect the internal workings of the base with his binoculars. The standard affair was laid out before him: large tents, guard patrols, several search lights, supply dumps, an attractive woman taking her pants off…

Snake did a double take. The latter sight definitely did _not_ belong in this frame. Pulling down his binoculars for a moment to check with his own eyes, the hero of Shadow Moses realized his sight was not going, nor was he having a strange hallucination.

A woman, probably in her mid twenties with brown hair tied back into a braid, had taken her pants off in the middle of an open tent. All she wore now were a dark green tank top and matching underwear. What took Snake aback was not the response to this act by the resident guards—all of who were male and probably a little sex deprived—but rather by their _lack_ of said response. A trio of armed soldiers strode by without so much as a cat call or even a gawking glance.

_Weird_. Not a word Snake employed very often all things considered, yet if asked right now to describe the situation he could think of no better response. Still, this was not the Psycho-Mantis-skipping-in-a-field-of-flowers sort of weird. In fact, as Snake continued to watch this woman search around the tent for something, this actually turned out to be a _good_ thing. Hell, the last time he gotten this kind of _live _showing was when Meryl still lived with him. So maybe that was only a few months ago. It certainly felt closer to a few decades.

Solid Snake's personal kryptonite continued to have a hold on him—and it was not relenting, either. Just as Snake seemed poised to break free from his trance, the lovely mystery woman would bend over to pick something off the ground, restarting the cycle. Snake audibly mumbled in pleasant surprise when she began to disassemble an assault rifle. This girl was definitely military trained, and the legendary mercenary once more found himself in his own private swoon.

"Snake! What are you doing?!"

And then said mercenary grunted in surprise, almost losing his balance and falling onto the soft grass beneath his feet. Of all the times…

"Otacon! Calm down!" Snake retorted through the Codec, trying to keep himself from speaking any louder than a hushed grunt.

"Of all the times, I can't believe you'd stoop to _this_!" Otacon clearly sounded indignant. Rarely did he raise his voice for anything else other than to whine or sob.

"What do you mean?" Playing dumb probably was not the best move, but it was worth a shot.

"Wha-what do I mean?! Snake, you're eyeing up a woman in the middle of a mission!"

"Does that mean it wouldn't be wrong if this weren't a mission?"

Snake smirked inwardly when he saw Otacon's frustration increase visibly on the other side of the Codec screen.

"N-no! I mean, well… Snake! Get a hold of yourself! Do you even know who she is?"

"I'd like to find that out now that you mention it…"

"Snake!"

The man in question sighed in a do-I-really-have-to fashion. "All right, Otacon, let me guess: she's the commander of this group."

"It's just like you _not_ to pay attention to the brief—" The beleaguered programmer stopped himself in mid sentence. Suddenly his voice was subdued slightly by embarrassment. "Oh, uh, that _is_ right, actually. S-sorry."

"Not too hard to tell even without intel."

"How so?"

Snake took another peek at the attractive commander, still in her underwear, cleaning out the rifle. "She's the only woman on this base, looks like she's handled firearms since she was a child, and besides," Snake added with a bet-you-didn't-think-of-this tone for emphasis, "not a single man here has shot a glance at her. Chances are she'd personally castrate any guy dumb enough to do so."

"That's going to leave you a little short after this mission, eh, Snake?" Otacon jumped in with good humor, attempting to be snarky.

Snake instantly soured. "Don't push it, Otacon."

"Uh, well, in any case," Otacon said carefully as he began to recapture his chiding attitude, "we've talked about this before, Snake. You just can't go around… peeping on women, no matter how attractive, when there's a mission to complete."

"Thanks, mom. I promise I'll throw those dirty magazines away after I do my homework."

"Snake, I'm serious. We might be an organization still unrecognized by the UN, but we do have standards. Remember that stunt you pulled in the women's bathroom back in Madrid?"

Snake replied with a short, humored snort. "Can't say I've forgotten."

"We almost lost _half_ of our funding because of that!" Otacon came close to a shriek. He truly could not understand his friend's proclivity for succumbing to such impulses with so much at stake. "Philanthropy doesn't get covered by the New York Times or CNN, but our actions _are_ monitored by other interest groups, namely the same wealthy donors who believe in our cause. And if the top agent in the field is known more for his… his lusting capabilities than determination in ending the Metal Gear threat, then we're left without a shred of credibility! We barely have any to speak of!"

Silence.

"S-Snake? Are you there?"

"Er, sorry. She just took her shirt off for a moment."

Snake could hear the sound of two hands slamming on a table top in exasperation. This little game probably endangered the entire mission, but rattling Otacon's cage yet again was too good of an opportunity to squander. Besides, Solid Snake was getting a free viewing of something even his best collection of magazines failed to capture: the sheer allure of watching a young woman topless in the middle of a military camp during an espionage mission.

However, Otacon remained apparently dumbfounded and ashamed. "This is _so_ wrong. So _very_, _very_ wrong."

"Wrong? How so?"

"It-it's the principle of the matter, Snake!" Otacon whined in mounting aggravation.

"Principle of the matter?"

"You can't gawk at an unsuspecting woman in this environment and think it's okay!"

"So," Snake began, grumbling in faux deep thought, "if I walked up to her and asked politely, 'Hey, show me what you've got and maybe after this mission we can screw the shit out of each other,' you would be fine with that?"

Otacon almost tumbled out of his chair. "Gah! No! No! Not at all! That's not what I meant, Snake, and you know it!"

"Are you saying you've never snuck a peek once in a while, Otacon?"

"Hold it. This isn't about me, Snake. Don't try and change the subject."

"I seem to recall back on Shadow Moses how you thought Meryl 'had a cute way of walking.'"

"There's a big difference between _that_ and what you're doing!"

"Really?" Snake now began to go in for the kill. Winding up Otacon was only part of the fun. "So suddenly I can't check a woman out on a routine mission, but you can stare at Meryl's ass with FOXHOUND leading a terrorist uprising in the same building? Smooth, Otacon."

For once, Otacon found himself _truly_ at a loss for words. "Uh… Well… There… There still is a difference! She wasn't naked and wasn't the enemy commander!"

"Meryl _does_ have a nice ass, though," Snake added almost as an afterthought.

"Well, yeah, but—wait a minute!"

"There's nothing wrong with speaking the truth, Otacon."

"I-I never said anything!"

"Sorry, Hal, but that was some pretty damning evidence." Using Otacon's actual name acted as a yet another small ice pick in this needling exercise.

"Snake!" the programmer moaned in despair for the fifth or sixth time. Snake had stopped keeping track. Drawing in a deep breath, Otacon made an attempt to collect himself in some fashion. "Look, we've spent _enough_ time arguing about this. Just complete the mission. You _do_ remember your objectives, right?"

"Remember my objectives? Do you think _enjoying the scenery_ causes memory loss?" Snake shot back, actually a bit annoyed with his partner's wavering faith. "I'll make sure to stop when hair starts growing out of my palms, Otacon."

At this, Otacon stared at the screen in complete confusion and mild disgust. "Don't tell me you were—"

"What? Do you think I'm some sort of pervert?"

"Well, the thought _had _crossed my mind."

"Rest assured, Otacon, I _do_ have an honor code." Then Snake sighed, speaking almost as though he was suffering from some form of regret. "But sometimes a man just can't help himself…"

There was a short pause before Otacon suddenly made a quick retching sound.

"Ugh! Gross, Snake! Spare me the details!"

"Anyway, no need to worry," Snake now grumbled, as satisfied as he could be with simultaneously irritating and disgusting Otacon all in one conversation. "The commander just got dressed again. Looks like she's on the move."

"Hallelujah…" Otacon rubbed the bridge of his nose in relief. "Try to follow her. She might lead you to where they're planning to build those Metal Gears."

"Got it. Oh, and one last thing before I go."

An audible sigh. "What is it now, Snake?"

"Next time, don't leave one of those Japanese cartoon porn magazines in the bathroom."

"What?!"

Click.

Game. Set. Match.

Now time to finish what he started.

- - - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Yet another MGS story in the bank. I have a few more ideas buzzing around, one of which should be more than just a one shot deal. This, though, was just too good to let pass by. Solid Snake's has plenty of character flaws, but his tendencies with women probably allow for the most humor. Metal Gear is ripe for comedy that isn't just crack, so I took the ball and ran with it.

Snake and Otacon banter is always fun to write or just improvise with someone else who knows the series. In my mind, Otacon is like that shy younger brother who looks up to his more world weary, cool as ice older brother (in this case Snake). Even so, there's always that "I'M GOING TO TELL MOM WHAT YOU'VE DONE" sort of dynamic to Otacon when Snake does something perverse. Ultimately, though, he never tells, because he admires his older sibling way too much to be a snitch. The same can't be said for Liquid, I bet. Curse his inferior genes!

Secondly, it's nice to create something where Snake is not totally bamboozled by every twist and turn the world has to offer. "Metal Gear?! Here?! Who woulda thunk it!" Instead, he's on top of things. Most importantly, like any good "older brother," he finds ways to torment his "little brother," but it's clear he's willing to take a bullet for him—quite literally even. Unless it's a really dramatic, solemn moment, Snake will find other, more _subtle_ ways of showing how much he cares. That is something I dealt with more explicitly in my other story "Solid Advice."

Here's to hoping you enjoyed this!


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